


Hello, Dean

by Redqueenswrath



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Fluff and Smut, Heartbreak, I'm so sorry, M/M, Reunion Sex, Reunions, aaalll the angst and man-tears, and crying, but i promise there's a happy ending, major character deaths, no i'm not, so much heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-04 09:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13361661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redqueenswrath/pseuds/Redqueenswrath
Summary: After a collision with a drunk driver claims the life of the man he didn't know he loved, Castiel is left to pick up the pieces.





	1. Chapter 1

“Hello, Dean…” Castiel breathed. His shoulders slumped against the surge of pain that tore through his chest. The former angel pressed a hand to his heart as though it could hold back the wave of emotions that cut him worse than any knife ever could. He dropped to his knees and rested his forehead against the slab of granite. It was warm from the sun, the cheerful day seeming to mock him. Castiel brushed his fingers over the engraved letters that spelled out the name of his best friend, his almost-lover, his soulmate that had been torn from him just as he finally realized the depth of their bond.

 

_ ‘Dean Winchester’ _ read the stone, simple in its statement. Directly beside it stood an almost identical one-  _ ‘Sam Winchester’ _ . Castiel choked on a sob as he trailed his fingers over the freshly laid dirt. 

 

“Hello, Dean.” he started again, his voice rough from disuse and crying. “I keep hoping that this is just a dream, a horrible nightmare. That I’ll wake up in the bunker and hear you and Sam bickering over coffee. That I’ll brush past you in the halls and you’ll smile at me one more time. Just one more time…” The tears fell faster now and Castiel laid down, curling up on the narrow strip of grass between the markers. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the Winchesters pressing against him, enveloping him in a hug. Despite the unseasonably warm day, Castiel curled deeper into Dean’s battered leather jacket, inhaling the scent that still clung to it, and wept- wept for his lost friends, for his lost Grace, for the chance at happiness that had been ripped from him before it even had a chance to take its first breath. 

 

The car wreck that had claimed the brothers’ lives had been a freak accident. A drunk driver had blown through a stop light and hit them head on. The police said the other driver had never even touched the brakes. The doctors said they hadn’t felt a thing. Castiel wished he had died with them, rather than waking up in a hospital bed less than twelve hours later, with whiplash and a broken wrist all he had to show for the wreck that had claimed three other lives. Without his healing powers, Cas was stuck with heavy plaster encasing his arm for a few more weeks. 

 

Cas finally cried himself out, dehydration leaving him with a wretched headache to match the pain tearing his chest apart, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

 

“I wonder how long it would take for this vessel to shut down.” Castiel wondered aloud. “If I just didn’t get up, if I stayed here until I finally join you. It’s not like anyone would bother me here.” It was true- although Cas hadn’t been able to bring himself to give his friends the hunter’s pyre they deserved, neither could he bear to have them interred in some crowded cemetery, surrounded by strangers. Instead, he had them brought here, to the meadow near the bunker. This had been their home, and it would be their final resting place. Nowhere else would be acceptable. 

 

“I miss you.” Cas breathed, his voice choked. “I’m all alone now. What am I going to do?” His eyes burned, but fresh tears refused to fall. He was wrung out- he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten, nor had anything to drink. Even sleep eluded him. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was oncoming headlights. All he could hear was Sam’s terrified yell, then the sickening crunch of metal on metal. Cas woke up retching every single time, even with nothing on his stomach.

 

The former angel sighed and scrubbed his palms across his scruffy cheeks. He hadn’t shaved in over a week- in fact, the last time he had shaved had been the morning of the accident. He had finally decided that he was going to ‘sack up’, as Dean would have put it, and ask Dean on a date. He’d never even gotten the chance.

 

“Why, Father? Why did this happen? Why, after everything we have been put through, after all the pain we suffered, why couldn’t we have this one thing?” Cas turned so he was staring up at the cloudless sky, the beautiful weather mocking him silently. There was no answer. “As Dean would have said, fuck you, Dad.” 

 

~~~~~~~

 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas sighed heavily, staring unseeing at the ceiling. “Nightmares, again. I never had nightmares when I was an angel. I hate this. I hate the constant reminder that I’m just a powerless human, now. I can’t even fly up to Heaven to see you. Not that I would have been welcome, anyways…” He trailed off, burying his nose in Dean’s pillow. “You’d probably laugh at me right now if you could see me.” Castiel laughed humorlessly. 

 

“I know I need to eat. I just can’t make myself. All I want to do is lay here and breathe in your scent, surround myself with you. But I’m going to have to to get up sometime. The wrecker…” He choked, cleared his throat, and continued. “The wrecker is bringing Baby here in the morning. They wanted to take her to the scrap yard, and I just… I couldn’t let that happen. I can’t lose her, too. She’s all I have left.” 

 

Cas knew he was being a bit insane, talking about the car as though it was a person, but he just didn’t care. “I don’t care if they say she’s totaled. I’m going to fix her.” A hint of the old Cas crept back into his voice, determination slowly eeking into the vast emptiness where his heart used to be. He glanced at the glowing red numbers of Dean’s alarm clock and groaned. It was only three AM, but he was wide awake. Sleep was a recalcitrant mistress for the mourning former angel, having to be dragged kicking and screaming by her ankles. He glanced at the bottle of sleeping tablets on the bedside table, briefly entertaining the idea of taking them all at once. He quickly discarded the thought with a shudder. The fallen angel knew  _ exactly _ where suicides ended up, and it wasn’t Heaven. It wasn’t with his Dean. With a soft groan, he rolled out of Dean’s bed.

 

~~~~~~~

 

“Hello, Dean.” The raven-haired man whispered from where he lay on the floor of the kitchen, curled into a fetal position. A half-empty bottle of whiskey lay nearby, tipped over and slowly trickling its contents onto the worn tile. “I understand, now. I understand why your answer to emotional stress and pain was to reach for a bottle.” He rested his burning cheek against the cold tile, letting it center him. The room stopped spinning violently when he lay like this. “I miss you so damned much.” He hiccuped. Later, the cool tile would comfort him again after he vomited for what seemed like the hundredth time in less than two weeks. 

 

~~~~~

 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas called. He was carefully unbolting the ruined hood of the Impala, trying to ignore the horrible copper scent that still clung to her mangled frame. Cas gave a triumphant grunt as the bolts finally slipped loose and he lifted the hood clear, struggling under its weight when he hefted it off to the side. He sighed, glancing at his reflection in the shattered windshield. His rapidly filling beard did little to disguise the deep shadows under his eyes, nor the way his cheeks had developed a concave curvature. His muscles were suffering, too- his forearms were definitely thinner, even taking into account the normal loss of definition caused by the cast. Despite the loss of his Grace, he seemed to heal a bit faster than normal and the doctor had agreed to cut the cast off at the three week mark. He had also pressed the business card for a grief counselor into Castiel’s hand with a pitying look. That had gone straight into the trash can.

 

He leaned heavily against the driver’s side door, hands stuffed into the pocket of the dirty hoodie he was wearing. He hadn’t changed clothes in days, and it was really starting to show. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m starting to work on Baby. I’ve been ordering parts for the last few days, and they’re beginning to arrive. I’m not even sure where to start, honestly. I’ve been using Sam’s laptop to look up videos… I keep getting distracted by cats, though.” The noise he made was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. 

 

“I miss you. I miss you so much that it feels like someone drove my own blade into my chest, and they keep twisting it and twisting it. And every time I start to feel anything other than pain, I see something or remember something and it comes crashing back down. Just this morning, I found one of your dirty socks under the couch and… fuck. I cried for an hour over a stupid sock.” There were tears gathering in his eyes  _ again _ and Cas dashed at them impatiently. 

 

Finally, he levered himself off the warped metal with a heavy sigh. “I swear I can hear you, telling me that I smell like the inside of a dead rougarou. And you’re right… I need a shower. I need to shave. Maybe… maybe I’ll steal your deodorant again. You claimed you hated it when I did that, but Sam said you were lying. Were you? Did you like it when I smelled like you? I do.” He plucked at the hoodie, wincing when he saw all the stains on it. “I feel so stupid when I raid your dirty hamper for something else that still has your scent clinging to it, but I just can’t help myself. Maybe I should stop wearing them, so you last longer.” He trudged off to the showers.

 

~~~~~

 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel murmured. He was curled up in Dean’s recliner, slowly reading the hunter’s battered copy of Slaughterhouse Five. It was taking him considerably longer to work his way though it than normal- he kept having to move the book to prevent tears from staining it. “You always tried to hide your intelligence, masking it behind what Sam called your ‘dumb jock’ persona. I don’t understand  _ why- _ you were just as smart as he was. This novel is… challenging. I will admit that I don’t understand it sometimes, but judging by how bent the spine is, you read it over and over.” He sniffled and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off a fresh bout of waterworks. To distract himself, he took a sip of the steaming coffee that rested on the side table, contemplating the mug. It was the red, plastic one with brightly colored cars printed on it. Sam had purchased it for his brother as a joke, as it was meant for a car-obsessed child. Dean had pretended to hate it, but used it constantly. 

 

He rested his head against the worn fabric, closing his eyes for a moment. “I miss you…” He drifted off to his first nightmare-free nap in three months.

 

~~~~~~

 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel smiled softly, sitting on the bench he had installed at the foot of the Winchesters’ graves. “Happy Birthday.” He turned the little metal car over and over in his hands, thumbing the miniature lovingly. 

 

“I found this at the Hot Topic in the mall. I don’t know why I went there, I guess I needed to get out of the bunker for a while. Did you know that the Winchester Gospels still have a following? In fact, they’re growing more and more popular. They sell little dolls and t-shirts and things based on them now.” He waved the tiny ‘67 Impala vaguely. “I just had to buy it for you. I can almost hear you bitching me out for wasting your hustled pool money on a toy,” He chuckled wetly before continuing, “but I know you’d love it. You’d probably hoard all the ‘merch’ you could find that had to do with Baby.”

 

He was silent for a very long time. “I’m doing really well with the repairs, actually. I’ve finished repairing all the body damage and replaced the windshield, and I replaced the radiator because it had a huge crack in it. I’m not sure what to do about the interior. The leather is...stained.” Bile rose in his throat and he choked it down with a swig from the hip flask he had stolen out of Dean’s dresser. Sated, he poured the rest of it on the fresh green grass that had grown over the disturbed dirt. 

 

“Oh! I didn’t forget the pie! I made apple- your favorite.” The pie was produced from a small cooler and set against the headstone. The model car was placed beside it. “I miss you so much.” He sighed and stared up at the sky again, smiling through his tears.

 

~~~~~~

 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel was baking again, trying his hand at chocolate chip cookies. The first few batches had been a disaster, but this one looked promising. “I can’t believe it’s been six months already.” He flinched a little.

 

“I miss you. I wish you were here to be a guinea pig for my cookies. I know you’d claim that you love them, even the most burnt, awful ones. I loved that about you- you were so encouraging. No matter how badly I screwed up at something most humans can do without even trying, you kept pushing me to try again.”

 

He sighed, popping a chocolate chip into his mouth. “Always keep fighting. That’s what you used to tell me. I can still hear your voice… I hope I never forget it. How can you be gone? I swear I keep expecting to see you come around the corner, smiling at me like I hung the moon. I never realized what that look meant, not until it was too late.” With a shudder, Cas buried his face in his palms and wept again, not even noticing when his fourth batch of cookies burned.

 

~~~~~

“Hello, Dean…” Cas groaned, his voice like gravel. He had woken up with a startled jerk  _ again, _ but this time it wasn’t from a nightmare. No, this was so much worse- he was  _ aroused, _ and Dean was the cause of it. He had been dreaming about brilliant, candy-apple green eyes shining with lust, about freckle-smattered cheeks flushed pink, about plush, kiss-bruised lips… He shifted uncomfortably and hissed when Dean’s sweat pants, silky soft after being washed a few hundred times, slipped over his heated flesh. 

 

He huffed a self-depreciating chuckle. “You know, this is literally the first time I’ve gotten hard since… well. Lets just say that I was starting to wonder if I was completely broken. I guess not.” With a wonder-filled sigh, he delicately cupped the bulge tenting the fabric obscenely. The surge of heat that tore through him took him by surprise, and with less than half a dozen strokes he was spilling over, staining the fabric with his release. He choked on his ragged breath, hissing through clenched teeth. “Dean…” 

 

When he finally recovered, he giggled breathlessly. “Quit laughing at me. I swear I can hear it. Lets see how  _ your _ stamina is after an eight month dry spell. Fuck, I miss you…” 

 

~~~~~

 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel slid into the driver’s seat of the man’s Baby. With trembling hands, he slotted the key into the ignition, but he couldn’t bring himself to try to turn it. He let his permanently rumpled hair rest against the bench seat. “She’s fixed. One year, exactly to the date, and your Baby is fixed up as though it never happened. There’s some sort of cosmic irony, there. I’m sure you’d be laughing at it.” He chuckled dryly, feeling the familiar prickle of tears, but they didn’t fall this time. Instead, he let a slow smile creep over his face. 

 

“I guess… I guess it’s time.” He nodded to himself, as though to steel himself, and turned the key. The car roared to life, and the sound felt like a scream of triumph. 

 

“I... I did it! I actually did it! Dean! Dean, our Baby lives!” Cas sobbed joyously, patting the steering wheel. “Oh, good girl!” He buried his face in one of Dean’s flannels and let the emotions wrack his body. The scent of his love was long since gone, but it didn’t matter. As long as Cas remembered, the Winchesters would never fade away. 

 

“Well done, my Son.” Castiel screamed, lunging for Dean’s pistol in the glove compartment. He leveled the firearm with trembling hands, his finger on the trigger, when he registered bearded man in front of him.

 

_ “YOU!!” _ The former angel bellowed, lunging out of the car and throwing himself at Chuck. He swung blindly, connecting with his Father’s cheek. Chuck made no effort to dodge the blow, his eyes showing nothing but sadness and regret as Castiel clutched his fractured hand to his chest.

 

“Me. I’m so, so sorry Castiel.” Cas fisted his good hand into Chuck’s shirt and dragged him close enough that he could feel the cosmic being’s breath on his face.

 

“Why?!” The man screamed, shaking his father violently. “How could you let this happen?!! How, after everything I sacrificed for you, could you do this to me?!” The tears came back in full force as Chuck enveloped his human son in his arms. Overwrought, Cas wept into the other man’s shirt like a child with a skinned knee.

 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Castiel.” He stroked the back of the distraught man’s head, trying to comfort him. Grace tingled through Castiel’s system, repairing his broken hand. “And I swear, I didn’t mean for it to take this long to set it right.” 

 

Castiel’s head snapped up, confusion and desperation written into every line of his face. “What?”

 

“Gathering up this kind of energy without imploding the whole Milky Way Galaxy is...difficult. I had to burn half a dozen stars, and finding ones that nobody would miss is harder than you would think.” 

 

The angel-turned-human cocked his head, completely stumped by what his Father was trying to say. Chuck smiled indulgently, like a parent about to witness their child’s first Christmas. “Turn around, son.” Castiel obeyed slowly, half terrified of what he would find, his eyes pinched shut in his fear.

 

Chuck laughed. “Open your eyes, Castiel.” 

 

Cas shook violently as he did as his Father bid, and when he did, he couldn’t believe his eyes. He closed them again, scrubbed them with his fists, and took another peek. Nope, his view was exactly the same. Standing in front of him, leaning casually against the side of the car that Castiel had spent a full year repairing (and in so doing, had rebuilt the shattered remains of himself), was….

 

“Hello, Dean.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok! I broke it, now I'll fix it! Jeeze! Please forgive me, and put away the pitchforks! Have 3,700 words of porn and happy reunion feels as an apology!

The small smirk teasing at Dean’s lips grew into a full, blinding smile as he pushed himself off the side of the car and slowly approached the other man. Castiel felt rooted to the spot, unable to force his feet to comply even as he reached for the hunter with fingers that trembled violently. A noise welled up in his throat, half joyful scream and half agonized sob when Dean pressed his cheek into the former Seraph’s palm.

 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean breathed, sending soft puffs of air dancing over Castiel’s shaking hand. Cas smiled broadly, gasping out a breathless, teary laugh. He brought his other hand up to cup the hunter’s cheeks, running his fingers over the freckled skin in disbelief. Dean leaned into the contact, his emerald eyes bright with barely restrained tears. With a laugh that verged on wild, Cas threw himself at the hunter, knocking him to the ground in his enthusiastic hug, and planted a tear-stained kiss smack on his lips. 

 

Dean yelped in surprise when he found himself on the concrete but tangled his fingers into the other man’s mussed hair and returned the joyful kiss, giggling between wet touches. When Chuck cleared his throat delicately, Dean finally broke the liplock and pressed their foreheads together instead. 

 

“Boy, where’s  _ my _ welcoming party?” A familiar voice asked teasingly, and Castiel’s head snapped up in shock. Sam was leaning on the passenger’s side of the Impala, elbows resting on the restored roof, with a shit-eating grin and laughter dancing in his hazel fox eyes. 

 

“Sam!” Cas leapt to his feet and lunged at the younger Winchester, dragging him into a bone crushing hug. Sam enveloped the completely overwrought man in his arms and let him sob into the familiar green flannel. 

 

Chuck laughed. “They’re a matched set, you know I couldn’t bring one back without the other.”  Dean clambered to his feet and joined the hug, sandwiching his love between the brothers. Cas craned his neck to meet his Father’s eyes.

 

“Thank you.” Castiel whispered, too overwhelmed to find his voice fully. Chuck bowed slightly.

 

“I only wish I could have made it happen sooner, my son. Seeing you suffer like you did… I never, ever meant for it to happen. But sometimes, even My plans go sideways.” Dean snorted, earning a reproving swat from his little brother. God just chuckled. “Now, Sam. Do you want to stay here, or do you want to help Me with that other side project we discussed?” 

 

Cas made a confused noise as Sam slowly stepped back from the embrace, sharing a meaningful look with Dean. The elder brother smiled and flapped a hand in vague permission. “Go on, get your stupid candy addict reassembled.” Dean probably meant his tone to sound dismissive, but it was completely ruined by his affectionate smile. 

 

“....Gabriel? You are involved with Gabriel?” Cas queried, his head tilted in a familiar expression of confusion. Sam flushed bright pink and Dean cackled.

 

“That’s putting it mildly. I’m not the only Winchester with the hots for an angel, apparently!” 

 

“Dean!” Sam’s blush ratcheted up several notches as he shot a bitchface at his brother. Chuck put a calming hand on the violently blushing man’s shoulder. 

 

“We will return as soon as possible, then.” With a small flash of light and a pop, God and Sam vanished. Dean wasted no time before pulling the shell shocked man into his arms again, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck as he did. Castiel buried his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck and breathed deeply, letting the familiar scent wash over him, and smiled. 

 

“I’m so sorry, angel.” Dean murmured, rocking them side to side in an unconscious gesture of comfort. Cas sucked in a ragged breath, fighting a fresh wave of tears. He was done crying, dammit! Dean brushed his lips against the shorter man’s temple as he spoke.

 

“I missed you…” Castiel whispered back, tightening his fingers into Dean’s shirt. When the hunter’s calloused fingers found the former angel’s chin and gently tipped it up, Cas followed the motion without hesitation, meeting Dean halfway for another kiss. This one was soft, tentative, and almost chaste as chapped lips slid over each other. When Dean’s tongue gently prodded at the seam of Castiel’s lips, they parted with a soft sigh. He soon began to reciprocate, mapping out the ridges and contours of the Winchester’s mouth. He groaned and surged up, nearly knocking Dean off his feet again, and drove his fingers into the sandy blond hair that he’d longed to touch for so many years.

 

“Cas…” Dean gritted out. The hunter’s hands clenched into a death grip on the other man’s hips, yanking him closer. He gasped raggedly when an unmistakable hot length pressed against his pelvis.

 

The Winchester chuckled breathlessly. “Damn, Cas. Is that an angel blade in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Cas responded by yanking Dean back down for another heated kiss.

 

“Happy...to… see you. Ah!” Castiel yelped when Dean’s sharp canine teeth sank into the former angel’s lower lip. His hips bucked instinctively, pulling matching groans from the pair. Dean staggered back, dragging Cas by his belt loops, and leaned against his Baby to keep his knees from buckling. Cas was already trying to pull Dean’s button down off, yanking at it as though it had personally offended him, and Dean chuckled around kisses.

 

“Cas, baby, let's move this inside.” Dean tried to reason with the other man, who seemed hellbent on having their first time right here on the cold, oil-stained concrete of the bunker garage. Cas growled and shook his head.

 

“Can’t wait! Waited a  _ year _ for this, damn it!” Hearing his angel swear was apparently some sort of aphrodisiac for the hunter and he groaned in response, plundering Cas’ mouth with his tongue. He grabbed a double handful of firm, muscled ass and pulled, cuing Cas to wrap both legs around the hunter’s hips. Dean almost stumbled under the weight- Cas was no shrimp, standing only a couple of scant inches shorter than the elder Winchester, and heavily muscled if his ass was anything to go by. 

 

Between almost desperate kisses, Dean started walking towards the main bunker. It was incredibly difficult to focus on not dumping them both on the floor with the way Cas was attacking the column of his throat with teeth and tongue, but he managed. He kicked the door open with a resounding bang and made straight for his old room, pausing here and there to slam the other man against a wall and rut against him while making out like teenagers. By the time he  _ finally _ was able to lay Cas down on the bed, the pair were damned near frantic with need. Instinctively, Dean reached for his nightstand and wrenched the drawer open, finding the lube exactly where he had left it a year ago. He started to fumble for a condom, realized that they were long expired, and quickly decided to say  _ ‘fuck it’ _ \- he wanted nothing between them, anyways. Who cared about a little stray jizz when it came to the love of his life? Not him, that was for damned sure.

 

He dipped down to smother Cas in kisses again, letting the blindingly turned on man strip him of his undershirt between nips. He moved to strip Cas in turn, removing what looked suspiciously like his own red plaid overshirt...and yep, that was  _ definitely  _ Dean’s Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He gave a possessive growl as he cast them both aside.

 

“Fuck, baby… Have you been wearing my clothes this whole time?” He abandoned Castiel’s kiss-bruised lips in favor of blazing a trail down his throat and to that prominent collarbone that was calling his name like a siren’s song. 

 

Cas made an embarrassed noise. “I missed you…” He whispered, as though that explained it all. To Dean, it did. He groaned, rutting his hips against the man under him.

 

“That’s so damned hot, Cas.” His lips found a dusky nipple and sealed around it, suckling gently as he listened to the soft, almost mewling wimpers the stimulation drew out of his lover. Fuck, that was hot… He switched sides, reveling in more of the same desperate noises torn from the back of Castiel’s throat. Dean didn’t stop until both nipples were puffy and tender, drawn up into tight peaks and shining with Dean’s saliva. 

 

Satisfied with his work so far, Dean sat back on his heels to take in the whole picture. Cas was already a mess, hair standing up in wild tufts, giving all new meaning to ‘sex hair’. He was gasping for breath, his flushed chest rising and falling in desperate heaves, and the dark washed denim (fuck were those Dean’s jeans, too?!) was tented obscenely by the thick ridge of his erection. Dean toyed with the belt buckle, recognizing that, as well. There was some seriously primal, caveman possessive pride surging through his veins at the sight of his lover wearing the hunter’s clothing, but they HAD to go. If he didn’t get a look at what the former angel was hiding under those jeans, he might pass out from sheer frustration. 

 

“Dean…” Cas whispered, reaching up to cup the hunter’s cheek again. He brushed his thumb back and forth as though reassuring himself that the other man was really, truly here. Dean leaned into it, anticipating a lot of moments like this in the future. And man, was he ever on board! 

 

“I love you, Cas.” The words tripped off his tongue almost too easily after everything they had been through together. Cas made a gutpunched choking noise and surged up, claiming the hunter’s mouth in an almost brutal kiss. 

 

“I love you too, you…. you…  _ assbutt!” _ Cas’ laugh was verging on hysterical and Dean was quick to press him back down to the mattress, covering the raven-haired man’s half-naked body with his own. 

 

“It’s ok, Cas. I’m here. I swear, I won’t leave again. I’m here.” The pair traded kisses and touches, exploring what they could reach of each other’s bodies and easing back from the nearly frantic high. Dean reveled in touching the hard planes of Castiel’s muscled chest, learning by touch what he had only glimpsed in the past. Cas started fumbling with Dean’s belt and the hunter was quick to help, tearing a belt loop in his rush to get the leather free. The belt went sailing across the room somewhere. Dean gave exactly zero fucks about seeing where when he felt his lover’s fingertips dip tentatively past the waistband of his jeans. The teasing, tickling sensation was driving him insane and the Winchester was quick to return the favor, working Castiel’s jeans open so he could ease a hand under the fabric. He wormed his fingers past the other man’s boxers and trailed them into the patch of wiry curls he found, hesitating just short of the heated flesh he could sense beyond. 

 

Castiel groaned low in his chest and arched his hips up. “Please, Dean…” He pleaded, and made a happy noise when his request was instantly fulfilled. The constricting denim was pulled down, although Dean left the tented boxers alone for the moment, all the way to his ankles where they hung up on Castiel’s boots. The Winchester made quick work of unlacing the scuffed work boots and threw them over his shoulders, socks and jeans following a moment later. He peered up at Cas, taking in the view, and smiled before pressing a kiss to each ankle.

 

“Dammit, Dean!” Cas hissed through gritted teeth. “Get up here!” 

 

The hunter laughed, bright and joyful, and shucked the rest of his clothes in a flurry. Cas stared openly at the miles of perfect, undamaged flesh exposed to him, and Dean playfully struck a pose. “Like what you see, baby?” He fisted his cock and stroked it a couple of times, making a show of smearing the beads of precum over the head. Castiel made a broken, desperate noise and lunged, throwing himself to the floor at Dean’s feet and sucking his cock down in one gulp. Dean gave a strangled scream.

 

_ “Fuck! _ Oh fuck, Cas!” He fisted both hands into Castiel’s hair, torn between yanking him off before he came like a fucking virgin or using it as a handhold to fuck the other man’s face. He settled for a pained groan and yanking weakly as Cas swallowed around him, working the head of Dean’s thick cock even deeper into this throat. Dean howled again, snapping his hips instinctively and making Cas choke before he was able to relax his throat muscles around the obstruction. The former angel hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, bobbing rapidly on Dean’s length just to hear the ragged gasps and moans he could rip from the man above him. Dean’s knees gave out and he flopped onto the bed, breaking contact with Castiel’s mouth in the process. He wrapped his fingers around the base of his dick and squeezed painfully tight to ward off the climax that had been approaching at breakneck speed.

 

“Jesus fuck, baby!” Dean panted, staring up at Cas in wonder and arousal. Cas yanked his boxers down and kicked them aside, crawling up to lay between Dean’s splayed legs as though he had done this a thousand times. He slotted his throbbing length against Dean’s, making little aborted thrusts through the sheen of spit and precum matting Dean’s pubic hair. The hunter trailed his blunt nails down Castiel’s back, leaving thin red lines in their wake, before cupping his ass and squeezing firmly. The former Seraph arched into his grip with a ragged groan.

 

“How’dya want to do this, Cas?” Dean breathed, nuzzling at the other man’s stubbled cheek. Cas gave a soft groan and shrugged helplessly.

 

Dean chuckled and stroked the back of Castiel’s head. “I gotcha, angel.” He carefully rolled them over and straddled his hips, retrieving the bottle of lube from the rumpled sheets. 

 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Dean whispered conspiratorially as he popped the purple cap open, drizzling the slick onto his fingers.

 

Cas gazed up at him earnestly. “Of course, beloved.” Dean bit back a snort.

 

“I’ve been dreaming about having your cock up my ass since that lightshow in the barn.” Dean grinned wickedly as he reached behind himself. Cas tracked the movement, his curious expression morphing to slackjawed lust when Dean moaned softly and he realized that the hunter was fingering himself open.

 

“Turn…,” Cas’ voice caught and he cleared his throat, “turn around. I want to see.” The former angel’s gravely, lust filled voice sent a violent tremor down Dean’s spine and he obeyed, spinning around and planting his free hand on the mattress to brace himself as he shamelessly exposed himself for Cas. The other man gave a needy whine and he sat up so he could grip one of the hunter’s pert ass cheeks in each palm and spread him wide. Dean was already two fingers deep, pumping them in and out at an almost frantic pace, and Castiel watched in awe. Tentatively, he released his right handful and trailed his fingers around the rim of Dean’s hole where it was stretched wide.

 

“Oh fuck, yes!” Dean gagged on his own tongue, nearly faceplanting when he felt a finger that wasn’t his own join the game, gently teasing at his rim. Throwing any sense of dignity to the four winds, he buried his face in the mattress and abandoned fingering himself in favor of holding himself open instead, wordlessly inviting Cas to take over where he had left off.

 

“Dean…” Castiel’s voice sounded like gravel and broken glass as gave a raspy moan. Two fingers slowly plunged into Dean’s core, then three. They pumped experimentally a few times before very deliberately pressing into Dean’s prostate, getting a shriek of pleasure from the hunter.

 

“That! Do that again!” Dean demanded.

 

Castiel chuckled darkly and pumped his fingers into that bundle of nerves again and again. “As you wish…” He growled, mentally cataloguing the wide variety of squeals and moans he was able to drag out of the other man. 

 

The hunter was spiraling up quickly, his balls drawing up tight against his body as the pleasure mounted. “Cas…! Cas, fuck! Stop, I’m gonna cum if you don’t fucking stop!” Dean all but begged, writhing and dancing on his lover’s fingers. Cas reluctantly withdrew from Dean’s body, wiping his fingers absentmindedly on the bedspread as the other man shook with the climax denied to him. Cas gently guided Dean to lay beside him, turning so that they were nose to nose and sharing breath while the Winchester recovered and eased back from the edge. With a lazy grin, he threw one leg over Castiel’s hips, rutting lazily. Cas returned the favor, smiling to himself as their shafts slid against each other in the most delicious, teasing friction. When Dean seemed to have control of himself again, he smirked and rolled them so he could straddle Cas again. He ground down on Cas a couple of times before shifting up onto his knees. Castiel’s hands came up to his hips, helping him balance, as the hunter guided the other man’s cockhead into place.

 

“Ready?” Dean purred, and Cas bit his lower lip in anticipation. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Dean eased down, wincing in pleasure-pain as Cas breached him for the first time. The loosened muscles still clung to his shaft as Dean coaxed his body into accepting more and more.

 

“Fuck, Cas… hung like a fucking coke can!” Dean chuckled breathlessly, his own length -slightly longer but a bit thinner- bobbing against his stomach with a wet smack. Cas gave an incoherent groan in response, his hips twitching with the urge to just bury himself in Dean’s white hot clench.  _ Finally, _ Castiel’s balls rested against Dean’s skin and there was no more left to take. It took every ounce of Cas’ admittedly slipping self control to not just flip them over and start pounding, but he was determined to wait until Dean was comfortable. The hunter gave an experimental wiggle, rolling his hips and rotating in a figure eight as he worked out which angle gave him the most pleasure. There was no doubt when he found it- the man gave the sluttiest moan yet and began bouncing on the other man’s cock. 

 

Cas moaned loudly and gripped Dean’s hips in a bruising hold as he began to respond, fucking up and into Dean’s slick channel in counterpoint. A few thrusts later, he abandoned Dean’s waist in favor of tweaking and rolling his nipples, drawing a whole new set of needy cries from the man riding him like his life depended on it. Dean tried to reach down and stroke himself but was swatted away and he ended up pulling his own hair in distress. 

 

“So damned beautiful…” Castiel’s awestruck whisper drew a reluctant, self-conscious grin from the hunter.

 

“Not so bad, yourself!” Dean teased, drawing up so that only the head of Castiel’s prick held him open before slamming back down. Cas gave a deep, animalistic growl and responded with a set of deep, punishing thrusts that left them both gasping for breath.

 

Dean could feel the heat mounting again, lightning bolts of pleasure welling up in his groin as Cas matched him thrust for thrust. In a stroke of genius, he reached down to cup his lover’s cheek before sinking his fingers into his hair and pulling firmly, forcing Cas to sit up to avoid losing a handful of hair. Cas groaned at what should have logically been painful but instead sent a surge of heat through him. He caught on to Dean’s plan and planted his feet, bending his legs at the knees and drawing Dean’s bowed legs up over his thighs. The hunter quickly took advantage of the new position and drew him in for a desperate kiss. He was right on the edge now, dangling his toes over the precipice, but he wasn’t quite ready to take the plunge just yet. Struck by a moment of clarity zinging through his pleasure-fogged mind, he ripped Castiel’s right hand off his hip and slapped it over his sweat-slicked deltoid instead. The former angel instinctively fitted his fingers over the old scar, matching it perfectly, and drove up into his lover one more time. The resulting spike of pleasure was explosive, swamping them both and dragging them under as they shook together. Dean’s release splashed as high as Castiel’s sternum, streaking him in obscene ropes of white, just as Castiel buried himself as deep as he possibly could in the other man’s body and poured gush after gush into him with a broken moan of Dean’s name. 

 

The former Seraph’s vision faded, went grey around the edges, and threatened to go black entirely as the aftershocks ripped through his exhausted body. He slumped backwards, dragging Dean with him, and rolled them to the side so that he could cradle his lover without losing their intimate connection just yet. Dean made a token protest at the manhandling, but Cas could feel him smiling against his sweat-drenched forehead. Cas happily buried his nose in Dean’s equally sweaty chest and let the scent of his hunter and enthusiastic sex wash over him. 

 

Dean chuckled breathlessly. “You’re gonna keep scenting me forever, aren’t you?” Cas nodded, his own smile creeping up on him. 

 

“Am I ever going to get you to stop stealing my clothes and deodorant?” The former angel shook his head, tickling Dean’s nose with his sweat-matted hair. Dean was dangerously close to outright giggles, now.

 

“How about a ring, instead?” Cas made another pleased noise, breaking off into a disappointed groan when his cock finally softened enough that it slipped out, accompanied by a rush of semen and lubricant. Dean couldn’t bring himself to feel grossed out. They lay in silence for a while, letting the ceiling fan slowly waft cool air down on them.

 

“You know, I could hear you.” Dean murmured into Castiel’s raven mop. The other man made a confused noise, and Dean clarified. “When you talked to me. I heard you. And it broke my heart, angel. I’m so, so sorry that I left you like that.” Cas clutched him closer, shuddering, and Dean tightened his grip too.

 

“It kept me going.” Cas’ voice was shaky, almost wet sounding, and Dean thumbed at the corner of his eye to wipe away the faintest hint of a tear. 

 

“Me too, angel. Me, too.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whyyyy won't this story leave me alone? Here, have Sam and Chuck mounting a rescue mission. No porn (yet), sorry!

“Are you ready?” Sam glanced sideways at the smaller, bearded man. His companion was unassuming- no one would ever guess that he was God, dressed as he was in ratty jeans and a white and green baseball shirt that had seen better days.

 

“Just do it, already.” The Winchester responded, bracing himself. Chuck had warned him that retrieving Gabriel would be difficult, though what ‘difficult’ entailed, he had been vague on. Chuck gasped Sam’s shoulder, and with a harsh yank from somewhere behind Sam’s bellybutton, the Bunker garage vanished in a flash of white.

 

Sam reeled when his feet found purchase again, stumbling sideways and fighting the overwhelming urge to vomit. The blackness around him was oppressive, worse than even the depths of the cave he and Dean had been forced to crawl through in Kentucky. Trying to get his bearings was impossible- it pressed inwards from all directions, threatening to crush him. For the first time since he was a teenager, Sam Winchester felt very, very small.

 

“Where the Hell are we?” Sam gritted out, his fingers flexing as though he wanted to draw his knife and he was only just resisting the urge.

 

Chuck hummed softly. “Not Hell. The Empty. This is where angels go when they die.” A shiver slithered down Sam’s spine and his fists clenched until his knuckles went white. 

 

“So, now what?” The disconcerting blackness kept Sam from having any idea how large or small the space was, and it was screwing with his head. He could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears, and every hair on his arms and the back of his neck was standing on end like a frightened cat. Some part of him wanted to curl into a ball behind the all-powerful entity beside him and beg to be taken away from this place, Gabriel be damned. But no, he needed to be strong- the Archangel was trapped here, and Sam was the only one capable of calling him out of it.

 

“You need to call to him. He tagged you with a bit of his Grace, and that little bit will act as his anchor point. Without that, it would be impossible for him to gather himself. Think of it like a magnet, pulling a bunch of metal fragments together.” Chuck’s nonchalant attitude rubbed Sam the wrong way, but he stamped down on the irritation ruthlessly. Now was  _ not _ the time or place to be scolding an entity of unlimited cosmic power.

 

Sam shook himself from his musings about why the Almighty insisted on behaving like a stoner college student and reached deep, hunting for that little golden spark that was Gabriel. It was easy enough- there was a warm, glowing speck in his mind that felt like how a double-dipped chocolate ice cream cone with extra sprinkles tasted. Sam teased it out, beckoning to the flicker of Grace until it was at the forefront of his mind.

 

“Got it.” Sam smiled, mentally caressing the little beacon. If he could held it in his hands, he would have described it as no bigger than one of those little bouncy balls you could get for a quarter. The moment he imagined it, it appeared in his palm. 

 

Chuck smiled when Sam jumped, nearly dropping the golden orb in his shock. “The rules are different, here. That Grace will behave as though it were your own, you have to but think it and it will happen. Of course, that is such an infinitesimal amount that the most you could do with it is summon a candy bar, but still.” Sam was struck with the urge to pet the Grace ball, to caress it and coo to it like a newborn kitten. He settled for gently petting it with his thumb as he contemplated what his next move would be. Inspiration struck him in the form of a half-remembered animated movie from his childhood, and he grinned.

 

“Chuck, if I wanted to use this,” Sam waved the Grace slightly to emphasize his point, “like a compass, or maybe like a safety line, would it work?” 

 

“You mean like an infinitely long ball of yarn that will lead you to the entrance of a cave and away from goblins?” Sam’s cheeks heated in embarrassment at being caught out. “Yes, I do believe that would work. Your little thread there will likely guide you straight back to the main ball… in this case, a wayward Archangel.” Chuck was grinning in that small,  _ ‘I know more than you do’ _ way of his, but Sam had eyes only for the Grace cradled in his massive palms. He focused all of his attention on it, and slowly but surely it flattened out and lengthened, drawing impossibly thin. One end of the now rope-like Grace wound itself around Sam’s fingers while the other darted off, gently tugging the hunter off to their left. Chuck’s smile grew wider.

 

“Lead on, Princess.” 

 

Sam snorted. “Does that make you Curty?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam wasn’t entirely how long they walked. Time seemed to have no meaning in this place. No matter how long he kept going, the blackness around him never changed. Sam never grew tired, or felt thirsty. In fact, the only sign that they were getting anywhere was the steadily growing puddle of Grace gathering in his palm. They followed the thread in silence, Sam still absentmindedly petting his only connection to Gabriel. To his amazement, it seemed to respond!

 

“It’s getting warmer!” Chuck immediately grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled it closer, examining the shimmering puddle thoroughly. He must have liked whatever He found, because His smile grew broader. The unlikely pair walked on, and Sam finally allowed a little flicker of hope to bloom in his chest. 

 

The ball of Grace grew quickly after that, and it seemed to Sam that it was becoming active. Instead of passively forming to the contours of Sam’s calloused palm, the puddle seemed to vibrate and dance, tickling his skin. The once faint but steady glow increased, wavering and flickering like a palmful of flames. They  _ had  _ to be close now, and Sam broke into a jog, following his shimmering tread just like Irene. He became aware of a sound, something like laughter and bells, and put on another burst of speed, uncaring of Chuck’s ability to keep up. The brighter Gabriel’s Grace became, the louder the sound became.

 

“Gabriel? Gabriel!” Sam shouted, and the Grace flared brightly enough to nearly blind him. He blinked spots from his eyes and broke into a full-tilt sprint, chasing down the end of his golden thread. The laughter-bells chimed all around him as the last of the Grace pooled in his palm and he skidded to a halt, his head snapping left and right desperately.

 

“Gabe!” The Winchester called again, and the bells took on a questioning note. 

 

“Gabe, it’s me! It’s Sam! Come on, it’s time to go home!” There was something distrustful in the bells now, and the Grace in Sam’s hands dimmed a little. Sam clutched his palm to his chest as though to protect his only connection to the being he adored, body and soul. 

 

“Come on, Gabriel. It’s me. You  _ know _ me! We… fuck, you gave me this! What more proof do you want?” Sam’s fingers clenched around the golden ball, cradling it. The hunter stared, mouth agape, as the blackness in front of him began to shimmer and waver like a heat mirage, slowly coalescing into an achingly familiar shape. Golden-brown waves of silky soft hair, bright, sunlight-through-whiskey eyes, a playful smirk that revealed sharp, pearly white canines… Sam’s heart juddered in his chest.

 

“Gabe…” The taller man breathed, reaching to touch his best friend, his brother-in-arms, his lover. Gabriel tracked the motion but made no move to step into it.

 

“Samshine?” Hazel eyes met amber, and Sam found a whole mess of emotions there- disbelief, shock, joy, fear, and dozens of others flashed through them faster than Sam could track. He nodded, shaking hand still extended. “Prove it. Prove you’re not a hallucination.” Something in his tone told the human that there had been  _ many _ of those, and his heart broke for the Angel. 

 

Sam smiled tenderly. “You’re Gabriel, the Trickster Archangel. You ran away from Heaven because you couldn’t stand watching your brothers tear each other to pieces any more. You hid with the Pagans and became Loki and spent a childhood growing up with Thor in Asgard, and Freyja was forever chasing the pair of you around, trying to make you stop pranking the other Gods. It never worked. You have four children- Sleipnir,  Jörmungandr, Fenrir, and Hel. You still sneak away and visit them, even though Asgard has a price on your head now. You put honey on your pancakes instead of syrup because you know it bothers me otherwise, even though you’d never admit it. Your favorite Starbucks order is a venti caramel macchiato frappuccino with enough caramel drizzle to stun a hummingbird. You steal my shampoo and blame it on Dean. You  _ hate _ waking up before noon, but I can always wake you up by kissing behind your left ear,” Sam’s ramble about every detail he could think of was cut off by the Archangel launching himself into the human’s arms and burying his face in the crook of Sam’s neck.

 

“My Sammy…” Gabriel snuffled as he clung to the younger Winchester. Sam breathed a huge sigh of relief and clutched the smaller being close, raining kisses all over the angel’s forehead and mop of unruly hair, which indeed smelled of Sam’s favorite sandalwood shampoo. His heart clenched when he realized that the angel must have used it the morning before he went toe to toe with Lucifer. A couple of tears trickled down his cheeks before Gabriel kissed them away. The ArchHerald made as though to capture Sam in a lip lock before Chuck cleared His throat pointedly, reminding them of His presence.

 

“Shall we? I must admit, the decor here leaves something to be desired.” Chuck deadpanned. Both hunter and angel grinned as He tugged them both to His chest. The Empty dissolved around them in a heat-mirage swirl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie Chuck and Sam are referencing us The Princess and the Goblin, a childhood favorite of mine!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And some Sabriel smut to round everything out.

Chuck dropped the hunter and his Archangel off right where He had revived Sam- the Men of Letters’ garage. Sam turned to thank the deity but was waved off with an indulgent smile and a wink before He vanished in a puff of smoke.

 

“Drama queen.” Gabriel scoffed. 

 

Sam rolled his eyes affectionately. “Oh like you’re any better, Mister ‘I Left My Boyfriend Farewell Pornography’?” He spun Gabriel into his chest and held him tightly, running his hands up and down the angel’s spine as though to check for injuries. Gabriel snuffled his nose into Sam’s sternum in response. 

 

The pair stayed like that for long moments, drinking in one another's presence, until a muffled but distinct shout rang through the bunker.   _ ‘ _ _ Cas…! Cas, fuck!’  _ Sam and Gabriel both cringed.

 

“Ah, Hell. I’m not gonna be able to get it up if I can hear that knucklehead.” Gabriel groused, and Sam snorted in agreement- He was happy for Dean, but he didn’t want a front row seat. “You wanna relocate? I can try to soundproof them, but I make no guarantees on how well that’ll hold up once I’ve got this monster,” He cupped the front of Sam’s jeans, which gave a very interested twitch, “up my ass.” Sam groaned low in his chest, bucking into the contact.

 

“Elsewhere. Fuck,  _ now,  _ Gabe!” Gabriel snapped his fingers and the garage dissolved again, reforming into Gabriel’s beach house in the Bahamas. The sprawling bungalow on its very own personal island was Sam’s favorite out of all of his angel’s little hideaways. Here, they could be as loud as they wanted, wherever they wanted, and nobody would interfere. Sam recalled making love to his boyfriend in Gabriel’s hot tub under the stars and shuddered in anticipation. Gabriel smirked up at him, reading the lust on Sam’s face loud and clear. He took the Winchester’s hand and dragged him along, making a beeline for the absurdly luxurious California King bed tucked away on the western side of the house. 

 

Sam sighed in relief and contentment as Gabriel stopped in the center of the room, pausing to admire the sunset through the wall-to-wall sliding glass doors that were flung wide open, letting the sea breeze in to tossle their hair and dance over their skin. “Love you, Gabe.” 

 

The angel purred happily and drew his boyfriend down for a tender, lingering kiss. “Ditto, Samshine.”

 

“You did not just Swayzee me.” Sam groaned, fighting a losing battle with a reluctant grin. He gripped Gabriel’s hips in his broad palms and yanked him close, bringing the obscene tent in the angel’s jeans into contact with the matching one in Sam’s. They both hissed at the contact, and with a soft  _ snap, _ they were both bare. Sam chuckled.

 

“Impatient, baby?” The hunter growled teasingly.

 

“I’ve been trapped in endless blackness for two  _ years  _ with no one for company. Forgive me for wanting to get to the good stuff ASA-fucking-P.” Gabriel snarked. He grabbed Sam’s shoulders for leverage and jumped, wrapping his thick, muscled thighs around Sam’s hips. Sam choked on a moan, cupping a double palmful of plump Archangel ass and staggering backwards towards the bed. The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he collapsed willingly, settling onto the silken sheets with a groan. 

 

“Fuck, Sam…” Gabriel stared down at him, drinking in the sight of his hunter naked in his bed. Sam’s hair fanned out over the creamy fabric that Gabriel totally hadn’t picked out because it offset the man’s tanned flesh, making him seem to glow in the fading light. His human was the single most beautiful thing Gabriel had set eyes on in all his long, long life. He wiggled, settling himself more comfortably on Sam’s lap, and gave a soft whine when the motion provided some truly delicious friction on his heated flesh. 

 

“That’s the general idea, yes.” Sam quipped, arching up under Gabriel, who snorted and flicked the human’s nipple teasingly. Sam yelped in response.

 

“I’ve been a bad influence on you, Sampson.” There was laughter dancing in those whiskey eyes and Sam fell even more in love with the candy-addicted angel. He tugged the blond down for a kiss and the pair rubbed against each other like horny teenagers, though Gabriel quickly grew frustrated. Sam barely had time to register what was happening before the angel rose up over him, grabbed Sam’s cock in a mojo-slick hand, and slammed down on it. Sam gave a scream that he would later deny as his considerable length was swallowed by Gabriel’s impossibly hot and slick channel. 

 

“Fucking  _ Christ!”  _ Sam howled, his grip on Gabriel’s hips turning bruisingly tight. His hips jerked in an aborted attempt at driving himself even deeper into the sweet clench of Gabriel’s ass.

 

Gabriel chucked breathlessly. “Not quite, Sammy. Now, hold on tight!” That wicked glint was back in the angel’s eyes as he started rocking, quickly building up to a punishing pace.

 

Sam was gasping and panting, his fingers leaving ten perfect purpled marks scattered over his lover’s flesh as he fought to last more than a few brief minutes under the onslaught of pleasure. He arched and bucked, profanity tripping off his tongue in three languages.

 

“Fuck, G’briel! Yes, oh shit...fucking ride me! Just like that, baby!” Gabriel grinned wolfishly in response, tipping a cowboy hat that appeared on his sweat-slicked hair.

 

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” Gabriel panted, scrabbling for purchase on the headboard with his free hand. Sam growled and bucked, scoring a direct hit across Gabriel’s prostate. The angel keened, his eyes flashing golden with barely-restrained Grace, and Sam snapped his hips up again, determined to see the angel come apart at the seams while he danced on his cock. One broad palm came up to cover and stroke Gabriel’s neglected dick where it bounced against his stomach, barely managing three good pumps before the angel was spilling his load with an inhuman scream. There was a flash of light, silhouetting the afterimages of Gabriel’s six wings against the wall, and Sam was dragged over the edge as well. Every muscle in his body locked up and he came with a silent scream, flooding his lover with liquid heat. Gabriel moaned weakly in response and his spent cock gave a valiant twitch and another spurt of cum.

 

Sam guided the angel down to the mattress with shaking hands, clutching him close to his chest and utterly ignoring the sweaty, sticky mess between them. He stroked Gabriel’s sweat-drenched curls absentmindedly as he basked in the presence of his fucked-out beloved.

 

“So, how long do you think it’ll be before we can go back to the bunker without risking an eyeful of our brothers’ bare asses?” Gabriel murmured in the general direction of Sam’s left nipple. 

 

The Winchester chuckled ruefully. “At  _ least _ a week. Unlike us, they’re just figuring their shit out. I doubt they’ll even manage to put pants on for three days.” Gabriel purred softly, arching into Sam’s fingers as they scritched at his scalp. 

 

“Whatever shall we do with all that spare time?” The angel drawled. He tiptoed his fingertips down Sam’s sweaty chest and teased their way into the hunter’s sparse treasure trail. Grace sparked in the wake of his fingers as he cupped Sam’s flaccid, yet still respectable, length. Sam hissed in surprise and pleasure as his blood flow rapidly rerouted south. Hazel eyes, blown so wide that there was barely a ring of color around lustful black, pinned the ArchHerald with a predatory grin, as the hunter rolled his angel under him.


End file.
